


Antivan Brandy

by panfanwithaplan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Belligerent Sexual Tension, Drinking & Talking, Drinking to Cope, F/M, Getting to Know Each Other, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29903028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panfanwithaplan/pseuds/panfanwithaplan
Summary: Mira Tabris can't sleep. Neither can Zevran.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Female Tabris, Zevran Arainai/Female Warden
Kudos: 8





	Antivan Brandy

_ Eighth day, we hated as she is violated _ . 

_ Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin. _

_ Now she does feast, as she's become the beast. _

A strangled gasp echoed across the room as Mira sat bolt upright in bed, drenched in sweat and chest heaving as though she had just finished a sprint. Her eyes were blown wide open, pupils dilated as she took in the room. Stone walls. Low ceiling. Wide bed. Quilt with intricate embroidery, clutched in her twisting hands.  _ Her _ hands, calloused and scarred and freckled, not the mangled twisted claws of a bloodthirsty creature…

It was unclear how long it took for Mira to calm her breathing down to its normal pace. One of the many cons of being underground, there was no natural light anywhere. She would never complain about being awoken by the rising sun again, once they left this place. Orzammar felt oppressive in more ways than one; the stone walls and low ceilings made her feel like a trapped animal and she felt eyes on her everywhere she walked, as though she were on exhibit. Not to mention the horrors she had seen in the Deep Roads, still fresh in her mind like spilled blood.

She needed a damned drink.

Shoving the heavy blankets that probably cost more than she made in a year carelessly to the floor, she draped a borrowed dressing robe over her shoulders and left the room, not bothering with shoes. The hallway was lit every few feet with an intricate wall sconce, lighting the way but throwing hidden alcoves and small corners into further darkness. The perfect hiding places for anyone who disagreed with Mira’s choice of a king. The logical part of her mind chided her for being reckless, but the exhausted part of her mind was half-hoping someone would try to pick a fight with her. It’d take the edge off.

But alas, Mira made it to the end of the hallway safe and sound. It expanded out into a large common area, velvet settees and low tables set on top of plush rugs placed uniformly throughout the room. One side of the room opened up into a wide balcony that gave a stunning view of the city. Meticulously woven tapestries were strung up across the walls, between which were several more darkened hallways that led to other guest rooms. 

Mira had half a mind to wake up Alistair and share a drink. He’d probably commiserate with her sleeping troubles, or at the very least distract her with his poor yet good-intentioned attempts at humor. Or perhaps Leliana could sing her to sleep or tell one of her tales, like a child asking for a bedtime story. Wynne and Sten didn’t seem like the drinking types. Nor did Shale (could she even drink?) Oghren was out of the question. Waking up Morrigan at this hour would be a death sentence.

As Mira pondered, the shadows shifted just out of the corner of her eye. She tensed up at once, on high alert at a second’s notice, prepped for an assassin’s blade at any moment. She turned to face her opponent…

Unfortunately, she was half right.

There on the grand balcony was Zevran, who had climbed onto the stone railing and was sitting in an extremely casual fashion for being one wrong move away from falling to his early demise. His face was turned towards the city below, his hair falling loosely over one shoulder. In his plain black clothes and the position he was in, he looked akin to an actual crow on a perch, observing its surroundings from on high.

If everything she had experienced in Orzammar had taught Mira anything, it was that Zevran’s demon-may-care attitude was largely a front. He had a strong skill for reading people’s true intentions and the advice he had given was from the wisdom of a man older than his years, well-studied and travelled. The very last thing Mira wanted to do was to share a drink and belly ache with Zevran, knowing that he’d probably be reading her like an open book for the entire conversation.

Right as that thought finished, Zevran lifted his arm and took a swig from a bottle of some amber liquid. Some of his stash of Antivan brandy, which he had told the rest of the party he was saving for “the most important of occasions”.

Well, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Straightening her sleep shirt and running a hand through her rat’s nest of hair in an attempt to look more presentable (as a  _ leader _ , nothing more, she convinced herself), Mira made her way onto the balcony. The area lightened by a few degrees as she stepped outer area, not quite at the level of natural daylight but certainly better than the pressuring darkness indoors. The city was mostly quiet, the peace broken by the constant hum of machinery or the distant cheers of revelers celebrating a new monarch. As she approached Zevran she cleared her throat loudly, not wanting to catch him by surprise. She had seen his reflexes on the battlefield, she did not want to be on the receiving end of them. Again.

He turned to face her, looking not at all surprised at her appearance. His eyes flashed slightly in the low light, the shadows beneath them the only telltale clue to his true state of being. He lifted his bottle of brandy in greeting.

“Greetings, my lady Warden. You’re up strangely late.”

“Back at you,” Mira deflected with a shrug. “We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Don’t you need your beauty sleep?”

Zevran chuckled lowly at that, flipping his hair over his shoulder in a coy sort of way. Mira made a conscious effort to not pay too much attention at the way it somehow managed to catch the low light, shining like liquid gold before it settled into place. The man probably spent a small fortune on hair care goods.

“There’s no need to improve on perfection,  _ guapa _ .” Smugness radiated from every fiber of his being and Mira snapped back to attention as she remembered why she had approached the living breathing thorn in her side in the first place.

“I don’t suppose you’re willing to share that,” Mira asked, nodding towards the bottle in his grasp. “I could use something to help me relax a bit. And I don’t know where the kitchens are in this bloody place.”   
  
Zevran made a face like he was deep in thought, idly swirling the prized contents of the bottle in slow circular motions and drumming one finger against his lips. After what felt like an eternity and a half, he responded by gesturing to the stone railing next to him.

“It would be an honor to share a drink with a beautiful woman,” he said with a purr in his voice and a glint in his eye, “but only if you join me up here. The view is  _ breathtaking _ .”

He made a very deliberate emphasis on the last word, and several alarm bells went off in Mira’s head at once. It had been a few months since Zevran had joined the party, and despite her questioning her own logic more than a couple times he had more than proved his usefulness and earned some level of trust. However, was that level of trust high enough that she would sit next to him on a balcony railing, one “accidental” nudge away from her messy end? That didn’t sound a very exciting drinking song.

On the other hand, if he had wanted to change his mind about fulfilling his contract, he had plenty of chances to do so before now. A stab in the back in the heat of battle, a slice across the throat in the dead of night. Hells, he could’ve just abandoned them in the Deep Roads at any time and let the darkspawn take care of the job for him, paying no mind to their fates…

_ Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate _

Mira shook herself out of that train of thought and dragged herself back to the present with some force. She had been quiet for too long and Zevran was giving her a look that was now a cross between his usual playful smile, an analyzing stare, and something that looked like...concern? Maker above, she must’ve been more tired than she thought. Back to business. 

Mira’s need to drink her demons away won out over her well-practiced cautiousness (not for the first time in her life) and with a resigned sigh, she moved closer to the edge of the high balcony next to the elite assassin.

“You’re lucky I’m too tired to give a damn about anything,” Mira muttered as she carefully moved her legs over the low barrier. She tried very hard not to look down into the darkness under her feet as she made herself as comfortable and secure as possible on the bare stone. Zevran said nothing as she did this, facing forward again but still glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. As soon as she was situated he held out the brandy towards her, still looking into the distance. And Mira finally claimed her prize.

She took a too-large swig straight out of the bottle, the strength of it burning up her nostrils and behind her eyes as it went abrasively down her dry throat. It was a cleansing sort of burn, like cauterizing an open wound, so she endured it, holding back a cough and squinting her eyes against the tears welling up. Underneath the burn was a rich, smooth flavor, deep and flavorful like a fall harvest.

At least the man had good taste in booze, she supposed.

Mira was perfectly content to drink in complete silence, but Maker knew that she wasn’t even allowed that simple pleasure. That would be far too easy.

“You seem a bit melancholy for the woman who crowned a king just a mere few hours ago,” Zevran said with a deceptive sort of lightness.

If Mira had learned anything from the past few days, it was that Zevran’s devil-may-care attitude was a front for a sharp mind that was playing mental chess at all times. And she, in her tired stupor, had walked right into his trap. This was the true payment for the drink.  _ Idle conversation. _

Resigning herself to her fate, she sighed deeply before replying. “I’ll be a lot happier as soon as I leave this place behind.”

“Come now, is this place truly so bad? Look there.” He gestured down below, and while Mira didn’t dare glance down she heard distant cheers of celebration.

“Even at this hour, the people toast to the newly crowned King Bhelen. And more importantly, for the heroic Wardens and their  _ fierce _ companions who braved the Deep Roads to deliver the final verdict.”

At the mention of the Deep Roads, Mira shuddered involuntarily, her nightmare still fresh in her mind. She hid the reaction by shrugging her shoulders. She hoped.

“It was just another job to do. Politics are a waste of time, especially when the whole world’s going to seed. If putting a crown on someone’s head was all it took for Orzammar to aid us, I would’ve put a daisy chain on Sandal and called it a bloody day.”

“That would be an interesting decision, I won’t lie,” Zevran said with a chuckle, “But it seems most of Orzammar approves of your choice of a king.”

“And the ones that disapprove are being quiet until they can stick a knife in my back.”

“Well, good thing you have a thus far successful track record with thwarting potential assassins.”

Mira laughed in spite of herself, the sound coming out dry and tired from underuse. She took another long drink to drown it, the liquid going down easier than her first attempt. The burn was still there, but it was manageable now. It was doing its job, distracting her from the shadows in the back of her mind. She let out a deep sigh as she finished, allowing some of her tension to flood out of her.

“So, what keeps you awake at this hour?”

In an instant, her tension came back tenfold. Caught like a mouse in a trap, baited with the promise of free liquor and frustratingly attractive company.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she countered, pointedly not looking in his direction. Those golden eyes of his had a way of making her feel oddly exposed. She wasn’t going to risk meeting his gaze in this state.

“I’m simply enjoying a moment of peace, dear Warden.” Zevran said to the side of Mira’s head. “Amongst all the chaos and bloodshed, quiet moments such as these shall be far with few between. We should enjoy them while we can, before they disappear entirely.”

Mira had to agree with him on that point. Her life had become unrecognizable to her in the span of a mere few months. She longed for the quiet nights in the alienage, the stillness only broken by the chirping of crickets or the slow breathing of her family nearby. Things that she had taken for granted.

She’d rather take a swan dive off the balcony her damned self than tell Zevran any of this, however. She continued staring out into the distance at nothing in particular, the dark cavern only lit by the eerie red glow that came from the fiery river that ran through the city. Zevran chose to either ignore her silence or take it as an excuse to keep talking. Typical.

“While it has been fascinating to see what this country has to offer, I do long for the sights of Antiva,” Zevran continued. “It’s like summer all year round. The plant life is always lush and green, none of these drab fields of brown that seem to plague the Ferelden countryside. Antiva City is built right into the cliffs on the coast, and the entire city is bathed in crimson and gold as the sun sets.”

There was a wistful lilt to his voice that Mira had never heard before, catching her off-guard enough that she finally gave in and risked a look towards him. He was facing fully forward now, letting his legs dangle off the edge of the balcony and leaning back on his hands. There was an easy smile on his face and his eyes had slid closed as though he were seeing the views he was describing behind his eyelids. He looked perfectly at ease for once, nothing like the air of being far above everything that he usually put on.

His eyes opened suddenly, and Mira immediately realized she had stepped even further into his trap as his molten gold eyes were aimed not towards the underground city, but directly on her, the mouse caught putting the bell on the cat. The relaxed expression on his face slowly but surely gave way to a disturbingly familiar smirk, mischief and smugness spilling forth from every inch of him.

“Although I will admit,” he spoke in a voice that was dangerously close to a purr, “Ferelden is not completely without its beauty. I’ve come to appreciate its...vast rolling hills.”

His gaze sauntered downwards in a very deliberate way and Mira felt a heat rise in her veins to rival the river of lava below.

“I knew coming over here was a bloody mistake,” she spat, trying to put as much space between the two of them as the balcony would allow. Which was, unfortunately, very little. Blasted dwarven architecture.

To her further ire, Zevran laughed good-naturedly, as though triggering her temper was just a game to him. Of course it was, everything was a game to him. He made political intrigue and assassinations look like child’s play.

“I meant no offense, my dear Lady Warden,” he said around a chuckle, “My words were meant as a compliment. There are few greater pleasures in the world than sharing the company of such a powerful and fierce woman.”

Mira was a hair’s breadth away from heading back to her room, downing the rest of the brandy, and waking up hours later with a headache and no memory of this conversation. But some other force kept her where she was. Worse, it made her face Zevran again and open her mouth. Maybe it was the rage, the embarrassment, her exhaustion. Maybe it was the alcohol already taking effect. Yeah, probably that last one.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Calling you what?”

“ _ That,” _ she snapped, waving her hand vaguely in the air. “Stuff like ‘fierce’ and ‘lovely’ or whatever the hell else. I don’t care if you tell me the sky is green, but stop lying about stuff like that. Go talk to Leliana or Morrigan if you want a girl to swoon over.”

Zevran was silent for a long moment, his face having gone from smug humor to carefully blank. Mira internally revelled over reducing him into speechlessness for once before he spoke up again.

“I’ll admit I haven’t been entirely honest with you, as it is in my profession to keep secrets,” he said with a shrug, “But of all the lies I have told, what makes you think those words are among them?”

“Oh please,” Mira replied with a snort, “I know your type from a mile away. You pull out all the pretty words and poetry for anyone in a skirt, and as soon as you get what you want from her you toss her out with the bathwater and move on to the next target. I’ve seen it happen a hundred times to a hundred different girls, and I’m telling you I’m not gonna be one of them.”

At the end of her tirade, something flashed in the depths of Zevran’s face. Something that was almost a flinch, a flash of something pained that was gone as quickly as it came. It was unexpected enough that it made some of her anger dissipate into thin air, and as some of her sense returned to her she realized how much she had just unloaded on him.

Zevran smiled at her in a way that didn’t touch his eyes at all, the strange passing emotion nowhere to be seen.

“I must say, I’m hurt and insulted by your accusations. I’ll have you know I’d do the same not just for anyone in a skirt, but anyone wearing trousers as well. What they are wearing does not matter, considering the end goal is to take them off.”

He winked at her and continued on before she could react.

“My sincerest apologies if I have offended you in some way, but know that I have not been untruthful in regards to how attracted I am to you. Such matters should always be approached with honesty, no? But I do not wish to make you uncomfortable. If it truly offends you, I will stop.”

Once again, Mira let herself respond before she could stop herself. Yep, it was definitely the drink.

“There’s no need for you to apologize,” she said with a heavy, tired sigh. “You haven’t offended me. This damned place just has me on edge.”

“It has certainly been an eventful few days, yes.”

“Putting it lightly. The farther away I get from this place, the happier I’ll be.”

A silence fell between them again, more comfortable than the last had been. Zevran was the one to break it this time.

“I take it you’ve met a few...unsavory men in your life, that you have such an adverse reaction to compliments now.”

“Yeah, I’m sitting next to one right now.”

“Oh, you wound me once again!” Zevran gasped, placing the back of his hand to his forward and swooning dramatically. Even Mira had to laugh at the sight.

“Thankfully, I’ve been lucky enough to mostly avoid those types of men. Unsavory folk don’t usually fancy girls who could knock the stuffing outta them.”

“That’s where I have to disagree, my Warden. I can say with confidence as a self-admitted ‘unsavory folk’ that I fancy you a great deal.”

Mira was grateful for her messy hair at that moment, as it hid the way her ears turned crimson red at his words.

“What did I just tell you about lying?” she chided, struggling to keep her voice even.

“I believe I just told you I never lie regarding matters of attraction. A fact that has not changed since I said it last.”

Zevran smiled at her, not in a teasing or smug way, but in the same genuinely relaxed way he had earlier. As he spoke, he slowly moved closer to her, giving her ample time and space to move away if she chose. She stayed put.

“I fancy things that are beautiful,” he purred, “and things that are strong.”

Their legs pressed together as he moved closer, the contact simultaneously sending a chill and a flash of heat across her skin.

“I fancy things that are dangerous and exciting.”

His voice dropped to a low rumble, his breath fanning across her face. Mira let her gaze drop to his lips for just a moment before meeting his eyes again, close enough that she could see the flecks of brown in the amber of his irises.

“Would you be offended...if I said I fancied you?”

He closed the distance.

It felt as though Mira had stepped out into the sun after a dark night. Warm, soft, comforting. A hand moved up to cup her cheek and she leaned slightly into the touch, her lips parting slightly against his. His tongue passed quickly over her lip, sending a chill down her back that wasn't at all unpleasant. Seconds, minutes, or maybe hours passed. Mira reached forward to grip Zevran’s arm for purchase, feeling oddly lightheaded in a way she couldn’t blame on the liquor.

_ Crash! _

She jerked away in surprise, nearly jumping out of her skin at the sudden noise. Speaking of the liquor, all that remained of it was a jumble of broken glass in a quickly spreading puddle, staining one of the priceless rugs.

“Ah, what a waste.” Zevran lamented, barely glancing towards the broken bottle. “That should probably be our cue to get back to bed.”

Mira didn’t trust her voice to work properly with her lips still tingling with a lingering warmth and instead just nodded. Carefully, she moved off the balcony railing and stood, her legs slightly numb from sitting still for so long. Zevran stood up with much more grace, stretching like a cat rising from a nap.

“As much as I wish to continue our...conversation, we have a long day of travel ahead of us in a mere few hours. Best we take advantage of the opportunity to sleep in actual beds while we still can."

"Mm," Mira grunted in agreement, still struggling to get her pounding heart under control. How this man managed to look perfectly calm and put-together after... _ that _ was something she'd never be able to fathom. She swept the shards of broken glass over the edge of the balcony to give herself more time to regain some amount of dignity.

"Well. Goodnight then." she said stiffly, formally.

His face melted into a full-blown smoulder, and he ran a thumb over his bottom lip as he replied.

"I think I'll have a  _ very  _ good night indeed after that. Sweet dreams,  _ bella. _ "

And with that, he spun on his heel and pranced away, humming a tune under his breath.

Mira stayed rooted where she was until he was long out of sight, swallowed up by shadows. She counted to 10. To twenty. To fifty. She let out a deep sigh, releasing all of the tension she had been holding. Exhaustion hit her like a ton of bricks, and she made her way back to her room determinedly thinking of nothing but sleep.

As she drifted off, too tired to even bother pulling the blankets back over herself, her thoughts were not haunted by twisted abominations, but of warmth spreading through her battered body, like being bathed in the summer's sun. She smiled privately at the feeling before she finally drifted off.

When she awoke a mere few hours later, there was nothing on her mind but a slight headache and a lingering warmth on her lips.


End file.
